


Royal Pajamas

by Lullabymeth



Category: Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Desk Sex, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-26
Updated: 2012-11-26
Packaged: 2017-11-19 13:52:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/573963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lullabymeth/pseuds/Lullabymeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bond shows Q just how much damage he can do without his pajamas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Royal Pajamas

It’s getting late? Or is it early? The temporary bunkers that MI6 have been holed up in for this latest mission are quite eerily frightful at 3 in the morning and Q is still taping away at his main computer. ‘The agents get off easy, my job is never finished’ Q thinks to himself as he breaks away from the keyboard, pushing his chair back. He stretches his lanky frame, adjusting all the kinks out of his over tired body and fixing his glasses from where they have slipped along his broad nose. 

The day had gone stressfully slow, so many reports of all kinds to be filled out to cover the recent crisis that had hit the country. To find the office at this early hours before dawn peaceful would be an understatement, maybe refuge was a better word. Despite the peace it was lonesome, as lonesome as the now empty Q mug on the table. The last cup of earl grey he’d consumed must have been hours ago, he wasn't entirely sure how long he’d been down here. Sighing and rubbing his tired eyes, Q made a move to leave the reports on the latest mission and the file of currently missing equipment in favour of getting another tea, only to be interrupted by one of the doors opening on the far side. 

The noise echoed abruptly round the room making Q jump slightly, he was sure he was the only one still down here but then he hadn’t checked the security footage for the last half an hour. Looking over towards the door he saw none other than the suit clad figure of James Bond casually walking past the desks and looking mostly worse for wear.

“I didn’t expect to see you down here 007” Q took in the state that Bond was in with slightly raised look, he’d been debriefed about what happened at Skyfall but really he could see the exhaustion plain as day.

“I thought I’d return equipment. No pajamas Q? I am disappointed.” Bond smirks as he makes his way past the rows of desks to Q’s main office. He notices the files left open on his laptop, the smirk falters and the facade of bravado has a visible crack. 

Q notices Bonds expression change as he glancing over the recent reports, M’s death included  
“I’m afraid I’ve left them at home, had some last minute work to finish up. Care for a tea? You sure do look like you could use a pick me up.” 

Bond is advancing closer to Q, despite his tired appearance and the sullen look on his face, the air of his presences is demanding all attention “I’m not really an earl grey man, I prefer something stronger. Here,” he hands over the remains of the radio and doesn't even bother to mention the whereabouts of the gun. Q quirks an eyebrow at the damage, shaking his head he takes the equipment and turns round to place it on his desk, his back to Bond. “Really 007, you agents can’t keep anything intact. I wonder if I can repair this damage” Q chides him as he starts tinkering with the tiny radio, inspecting the casualties.

Bond rolls his eyes at the younger mans attempt to be angry while appreciating the view, advancing forward he presses close against Q’s back and wrapping his arms around his waist making his presence known. He brings his head level with the collection of dark curls that belong to the young technician, leaning close to his ear Bond can feel the slight tremble through the cardigan clad body. 

"Bond, I'm busy" Q tries to shrug the agent off in favour of the technology in front of him, however the feeling of the other man pressed so close and his breath catching his neck sends chills down his spine. Bond inhales Q's scent while caressing his chest through his clothes, pressing his hips close enough to allow Q to know while's tired he is by no means not capable of being aroused.

“Mmm I’d like to show you how much damage I can really do. Even without my pajama’s.” Bond whispers and feels the full blown shiver break through Q’s body.

“I’m almost mourning the loss of seeing your pajama’s Mr. Bond” the young man quips back, slowly grinding backwards into the body trapping his.

Bond makes his way from Q’s ear, leaving a trail of bruising marks that flower across the pale skin. He can feel the genius' hands grasping backwards towards his hips, growling he forces Q’s hands back on the desk trapping them as he works on hitching the cardigan and shirt up his body. The cardigan goes first over the mop of dark curls, knocking Q's glasses off in the process. It earns Bond a disgruntled look once his head reappears. Bond leaves the cardigan in a tangle around Q's arms in favour of unbuttoning what was a pristine white shirt with no wrinkles to caress the soft flesh underneath. Q on the other hand impatiently twisted round "Bloody hell Bond, just kiss me already" and proceeded to crash their lips together in a fight for dominance. Bond was surprised by the sudden forwardness, groaning into Q's mouth as the younger mans devious tongue did wicked things that he had no right to know.

The sound of heavy breathing and the rustling of clothes echoes in the bunker, the task of unclothing fully is too cumbersome to complete but they manage to reach some partial state of undress. Q is mostly naked with his clothes tangled about his limbs, the shirt joined the cardigan that Bond really doesn't like. It makes the boy look a boy pretending to be a man. His trousers and underwear pool amongst his feet, leaving a vast amount of skin on show to the older man, it makes Q tinge red with a blush and shiver against the cold. While Bond's shirt is simply untucked and his trousers slung on his hips, his arousal standing apparent. 

Bond stares, appreciating the view. He might not like it to admit it but Q is one of the most dangerous men in the country and seeing him laid bare and vulnerable turns him on more than he's felt in a long time. 

" Christ, are you gonna just stare 007? I'm waiting for this so called damage" Q quips at him over his shoulder, a hint of a shy smile under those dark curls. 

Shaking away the feelings of sentiment leaves Bond to ravish the boys skin once again. Starting from the neck, Bond listens to the small hitch sighs Q lets go as he sucks red visible bruises and licks them almost apologetically after. He leaves them in spots where all of Q branch will know he's been claimed, and earn him some remarks from his Quatermaster when he sees them. At this point Q is too distracted with the sensations sparking his arousal into a full blown fire. The combination of Bond's mouth on his skin and the hand that has found his leaking cock to pull the foreskin back, sends him into a sensory frenzy. Q feels the lust to reciprocate biting at him like an unreachable itch, but every time he turns to kiss and fight back Bond simply traps his arms further into his favourite cardigan and cripples him with a particularly hard stroke that leaves him moaning for more. 

 

Q gives Bond a pout when he moves his mouth away from his sensitive neck but its quickly replaced with a strangled gasp as he grips him more tightly and starts to stroke faster. The pace is relentless and the bastard is grinning at the sight of Q twisting tightly against the desk, stuck between pushing forward into his hand and away from it. The desk below is making painful sounds, like it will break at anytime but Bond's too keen to break his Quatermaster first.

"Aah...nnnggh...B..Bond I'll Come if you keep this up" Q whines trying to slow the pace down. Bond is relentless, swatting away the boys hands "That's the idea Darling, or have you not discovered this yet" It earns him a halfhearted glare but he smirks in reply nipping at Q's ear. James can tell he's close by the faster breathing and how it hitches when he thumbs the top of his cock, spreading the leaking pre come. Q's hips move faster to Bond's rhythm, and the hand that trails down his side to squeeze his buttocks and brush so delicately against his hole sends Q over the edge.

"Shit....James...aaaaah!So close...."

Q's grip twists within his clothing handcuffs as he spasms against the desk, twisting and keening against Bonds still moving hand. The tightly wound spring that was his body is now out of control, the sensations are over whelming. Q's orgasm is hits hard and fast, his cock spurting forth streaks of white over Bond's hand and the desk. Bond squeezes the younger mans pulsating cock, collecting and spreading as much come as he can on his hand. His other soothes Q's side while he works him through the orgasm "Clever boy" Bond teases him, voice deep with arousal and muffled from kissing the boy's hair affectionately. Q's brain feels too fuzzy to bother thinking of a reply but he cranes his head back to nip at Bonds mouth in retort. He lets his body go lax and leans heavily against the desk "I'm not finished with you yet, Q."

Bond moves the hand from Q's cock to his arse with the collected makeshift lube to prep him, he goes slow with one finger at first, testing. Q hisses sightly at the invasion but too far into the post orgasm lull to complain. Bond works quickly moving from one to two fingers, then finally three to spread Q as much as possible. Bond has ignored his own arousal for far too long as feels like he's about to expload, he knows he wont last long. The combination of exhaustion of the recent mission is catching up on him and the delicious site of Q's flushed body isn't helping. Q is already recovered, squirming and moaning against the fingers buried inside him. The appearance of being prim and proper has disappeared from the boy, and been replaced with burning wanton need. Bond prepares to line up behind him, giving his cock a good stroke when Q stops him "Wait. Stop. Let me bloody turn over, this desk isn't comfortable." He demands kicking his shoes and trousers off as quick as his arousal addled mind will allow. 

The young man then lunges into a ferocious kiss as Bond lifts him up, cupping the firm buttocks he's had a nice view of. Tongues, teeth and mouths clash as they groan and grind against each other, the frenzy of passion taking over them. Bond pushes Q back onto the desk so he's lying spread across it, Papers, stationary and most of the occupants find a new home scattered across the floor but neither pay any mind to what happens to it. Q moans deeply, arching his back as Bond finally pushes into him in one full thrust.  
"God, Q...you're so tight" James groans against his skin, licking and biting what he can reach while he lets him adjusts.

He gives Q a few slow thrusts before the pace of his hips is set hard and fast, pushing Q's and his own body at a punishing pace. James adds new marks to match Q's neck over his chest, slamming his hips home on a particularly hard bite. Q can't help the moans that choke out of him, he wants to desperately remain in control but his body has other ideas. He's rolling his hips back and hooking his legs round the waist of the older man, kissing him with open mouthed kisses that set both fires in their bellies alight. Their bodies slap together with such ferocity the desk shakes, each trying to outlast the other, it's not love making, it's a battle. Fucking. 

Bond feels the tell tale sign he's close, coil in the pit of his stomach tightening. He reaches once again for Q's cock but he's beaten him to it, the younger of the two gives a shit eating grin at the older and laces their hands together around himself, both bringing him to completion. The sight spurs Bond to move his hips harder, the angle shifting so that he hits Q's prostrate. Bond wishes he still had those contact lenses with the camera in them, the picture Q makes is beautiful. The surprise mixture of pleasure and pain that crosses his face once his sweet spot is hit is a picturesque moment. It is completed by his pale skinned body arching with his second release, the streaks painting their hands and his stomach. The contracting muscles of Q's body grip Bond as tightly as his limbs do, pressing both sweat slicked bodies as close as they will go. Bond's orgasm is wrenched from him with a deep groan against the boys neck.

The silence except from the breathing is comforting. Neither feel like moving, their bodies mingled with sweat, the smell of sex and the post coital feels too content to disturb. 

"Bond." Q's voice sounds quiet and more strained, it's unusual to Bond. He hums in reply, nuzzling into the even messier curls.

"You can file a damages report.......and replace my mug." Bond just chuckles a heart warming laugh kissing him in reply.


End file.
